


A heavy-handed calibration

by aeoleus



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Tag, Episode: s07e19 Transition, Exhaustion, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, i wrote this in one day, like shes huge but she's so beautiful, original title was brain stew, the miracles that occur when u ignore ur work, u know how it is, working thru their issues mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeoleus/pseuds/aeoleus
Summary: Donna and Josh have a lot to figure out.A twist on Josh's outburst in "Transition", where his exhaustion is a little bit more obvious.[REPOSTED- ORPHANED ACCIDENTALLY]
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, josh lyman/ common sense
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	A heavy-handed calibration

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!  
> This work was orphaned by accident. I’m the original author, so im re-uploading everything as it was originally. Please check my tumblr (ta1k-less) and my profile for links to re-uploaded works or updates. So sorry for the inconvenience!
> 
> \-----------------------
> 
> Hope everyone is healthy and happy!

Donna wasn’t stupid. 

She saw how Josh had slowly fallen apart. She’d noticed every sign. The few times they’d cross paths in the primaries, he looked tired, even exhausted. But every angry, upset, screaming part of her that wanted him to notice how badly Gaza had affected her, wanted him to apologize for every stupid thing he had done, and the much quieter but ever-present part that knew he was likely equally as hurt and angry as she was, stopped her from reaching out and seeing if he was okay. 

Besides, not talking was a two-way street. 

And then the General hit, and she was out of a job. She knew Russell wasn’t “the real deal”, but he was a good man, and leaving for the campaign was the exact same thing she had done nearly eight years ago, when she needed to get over a man, and needed to figure out who she was. And it had worked. She grew, and realized she was good, and working on a ruthless national campaign with no one she knew almost ensured that the part of her that had grown cold after Gaza froze solid. 

But then, she had to suffer through the humiliation of Josh turning her down for a job, and having to walk through Santos HQ after feeling like every person with eyes on her knew exactly what had just happened. That Josh had simultaneously refused her and, at the end of a sentence, almost like an afterthought, said “and if you think I don’t miss you every day-” 

Donna couldn’t handle it. She had been doing okay. She couldn’t do it. So she stopped him and she walked out. 

And then Lou hired her anyways, and she’d started to see more of Josh. He really was going downhill. Losing hair, eye-bags chiseling their way into marble permanency on his skin, eating maybe half a meal a day, if that. He yelled at someone at least twice as often as he cracked a smile. Donna doubted he was sleeping more than a few hours a night. These were classic symptoms, really. And obviously, she couldn’t say anything. Not while they were barely able to have a normal conversation with each other. 

Donna kept waiting for someone to notice what was happening to him. And yet Lou said nothing. Bram said nothing. The Congressman said nothing, save for a few remarks about Josh needing a vacation, and Donna was confused. Wasn’t it so obvious?

Josh was perpetually teetering on a precipice, waiting for the final push to come and shove him over the cliff. Right now, he already had a foot over the edge. All he needed was one more comment that he wasn’t smart enough for this job, and Josh would fall off the face of the earth. 

He’d space out and yell at people he shouldn’t, like he already did, and next thing you knew, he’d be showing up to work with a bandage wrapped around his hand and he’d tell everyone it was an accident. 

Maybe they’d even believe him. They were in the middle of transition; there were more important things to worry about than a grown man who should be able to take care of himself. 

It wasn’t like this was the West Wing- there wasn’t Sam to keep Josh level, CJ to bully him affectionately, Leo to keep an eye on him, Toby to give him advice. There was just an airplane hangar full of people he was supposed to be leading. Who looks out for the boss, anyways? 

Donna knew better. She knew precisely what was going to happen. 

But even after everything that had happened- the kiss, and Election night, and Leo, and now, last night, coming over to his apartment- there was a massive wall between them, one that couldn’t be broken down with just sex and the occasional three minute conversation. They had a lot of stuff to fix, and it didn’t help that they were both workaholics who would jump at the chance to go over a briefing memo rather than have one honest conversation about their feelings. 

Damn. Maybe six years with Josh had rubbed off on her more than Donna thought. 

When Leo died, Donna had gone looking for him, a tiny part of her terrified that this would be the giant push, and that he was already gone. When she found him in Leo’s room, leaning on the bed, looking down at the floor, his face completely devoid of emotion, half of Donna wanted to throw her arms around him and hold tight until he got himself back together. 

Something stopped her. 

She loved him. She knew this. 

But still, she was painfully aware, that love wasn’t always enough. Especially in the ruthless world of politics. She should know. Six years of feelings, two near death experiences, and love still wasn’t enough. And she couldn’t allow herself to be so wounded again, like she felt every time Josh fell into someone else, and she had to listen to him chatter about how smart and accomplished they were. She had to protect herself. So she listened to him, and when he started crying, really crying, Donna held back every instinct and just put a hand on his shoulder. 

But Josh clearly didn’t have the same reservations. One touch, and he broke. He all but fell against her, silent sobs wracking his shoulders. Donna swallowed thickly, and gave in, pulling him tight to her. 

They were so close, and still, so far, from each other. 

Which is why Donna wasn’t surprised that when she woke up at 5 AM in Josh’s bed, in his t-shirt, with a bruise above her collarbone from him, the space next to her was empty. She rolled out of bed, padded to the bathroom and found that empty too. She was half-expecting to find him asleep in the shower, or something dumb like that. 

She got ready, and found him in the living room staring at his laptop, still in boxers. There were no other lights on, and every line in his face was cast into shadow by the harsh screen light. He’d already downed a Red Bull, and a half-used roll of antacids were sitting next to him. Donna checked her watch. 5:30 AM. 

She’d put her emotions in check, sat down next to him, and told him her plan in the same authoritative tone she’d learned to use with the press, that they needed to figure out this relationship now, and that she was giving him four weeks. And Donna thought, if they could keep this wall intact, just until Josh figured out what he wanted, then, when, if, it inevitably fell apart like it had before, and he decided to go out with that girl Amy suggested, she would still be in one piece in the aftermath. 

But Josh had looked at her, wide-eyed, dumb from her kiss, and she felt the wall crumble a little. 

She put it back together before she got to the office. 

* * *

Donna heard the screaming before she saw it. She looked up and made eye contact with Sam, who was standing stock-still, with his arms crossed tight, and a silent understanding passed between them 

Lou just rolled her eyes and slammed a briefing book on the desk, as they heard Otto get reamed out for something that definitely wasn’t his fault, and muttered something about wanting to strangle Josh a thousand times over. 

Donna couldn’t disagree. She wondered how many people in this office had put together that the Senior Advisor to the President who had narrowly escaped death one summer night in Virginia, years ago, was the very same man who required new polling data every ten minutes, otherwise he went crazy. Donna also wondered how many had put together that she was the Senior Assistant that had been the sole survivor in Gaza. That thought brought a heavy lump up in her throat, so she pushed it back down. 

She was so caught up, she didn’t even realize the screaming had stopped. She looked up sharply, and found Sam, two steps away from Josh’s door, and something in the urgency in how he was moving set off immediate alarm bells, so Donna got up and followed him. 

Otto was standing in the middle of the office, looking shell-shocked. 

“He just...dropped. I-I-” 

Donna looked around, confused, and then realized Sam was hurrying to Josh’s desk, and then also realized she recognized the terribly scuffed dress shoes poking out from behind it. 

Josh was prone on the ground, eyes closed, a nice gash in his forehead bleeding red onto the carpet. Sam was kneeling besides him, fingers on his neck. 

“His pulse is fast,” He said, looking up at her. She swallowed her sudden nausea and dropped down next to Sam. Well, it’s not like she couldn’t see this coming. She was getting scary good at compartmentalizing. 

“He just dropped?” She repeated to Otto, who nodded, clenching his hands together tightly. 

“He was yelling, and then he sat down, and got back up, and got all pale, and then he just…”  
“Dropped.” Donna said. 

“He hit his head on the corner of the desk.” 

She produced a tissue from her pocket and held against his head.

“Ambulance?” She asked Sam in a low tone. Sam shook his head grimly. 

“We can’t. The optics.” 

Shit. 

Donna looked up. Lou, Bram, and Ronna, along with a small crowd of staffers, had formed in the doorway, staring at the scene without a hint of reservation. Donna bit down the urge to scream at them, and looked directly at Lou. 

“Get Dr. Bartlet here.” She said. 

“The...First Lady?” Lou asked. 

“Yes, the First Lady. Tell her it’s about Josh, and I’m asking for her, and that I’d appreciate it if she brought her bag.” 

“I-”  
“Do it, Lou, I’m being serious.” 

Lou nodded once and took off for the nearest phone. 

“The rest of you, don’t you have work? I’m pretty sure you’re being paid for something.” Sam yelled, clearly not in the mood to hold back. The crowd dispersed quickly, until it was just Otto, standing in the middle of the room, turning over Josh’s Blackberry in his hands. 

“Otto,” Donna said, checking to see if the bleeding on his head had stopped. It hadn’t. She put the handkerchief back and held it on. “This wasn’t your fault, I promise. Can you go get me a bottle of water, and some Gatorade? Not sugar-free.” 

Otto left the room, and mercifully shut the door behind him. Donna breathed and looked up to meet Sam’s eyes. 

“This was probably inevitable.” She sighed, and swept Josh’s hair off his forehead without thinking about it.  
“He should have called me a lot earlier.” Sam said. “C’mon, we should get him on the couch.” 

Donna nodded. It really shouldn’t have been as easy as it was, moving him to the couch. He must have lost more weight than she thought. 

They got him situated, head on a pillow, and Donna stole a napkin from under his coffee to wipe off the blood that had trickled down his neck. 

Jesus, his desk looked like the aftermath of a frat party. Cans and cans of energy drinks, empty coffees, medicine not taken, papers. There wasn’t a speck of anything not a stimulant or work. 

She sat down on the table in front of his couch. Sam sat next to her. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked softly. He handed her a tissue, and that’s when Donna realized she was crying. How long had that been happening? 

“Uh,” She said thickly. “A lot.” 

“I can see that. Has Josh gotten his head out of his ass yet?” 

“With what?” Donna half-laughed. 

“You.” 

Donna stilled, and turned to look at him. You know what? Screw it. This was Sam. If she couldn’t talk to him…

“We’ve, uh, been sleeping together?” 

“Since when?” He demanded. 

“Election day.” 

Now it was Sam’s turn to still. 

“Wow. But, I mean, that’s it? I guess I always figured that when Josh realized how stupid he was being with you, he’d go zero-to-100 pretty quickly.” 

“I don’t know.” Donna said. She twisted the bracelet on her wrist. “I don’t know. I sort of told him he had four weeks to figure it out this morning. I-I can’t totally depend on him, you know? If this doesn’t work, I can’t be completely devastated, and I’m-”  
“Scared.” 

Donna nodded mutely. Sam sighed, and threw an arm around her shoulders. They sat for a quiet moment, and looked at Josh, still out of it. It was unnerving to see him so still.

Donna sniffled. Sam looked at her, levelly. 

“Donna, I have complete faith that this will work out. He loves you, you know that?” 

“Yes.” She said quietly. “But that’s not always enough, is it?” 

“No, not always,” Sam agreed. “But this time, we’ll make sure it is.” 

There was a knock on the door, and Otto slipped in with a few bottles of water and Gatorade. 

“The First Lady will be here in a few minutes.” He said. 

“Thanks, Otto.” 

Otto glanced at Josh, still prone on the couch. 

“He’ll be alright.” Donna assured him. “Just send back the First Lady as soon as she gets here.” 

Otto nodded and left, closing the door behind him. 

She put the bottles down, and sat back down next to Sam. 

“It’s weird, right?” She asked. “That no one knows the warning signs?” 

Sam laughed.

“Oh God, we used to have a Josh Lyman detection system, didn’t we?” 

“Oh yeah, like DEFCON levels, but for how close Josh was to screaming at the Capitol Building.” 

Sam went silent. He looked at Josh and looked down.

  
“I kept seeing him, on the news, or the blogs. I saw he looked like shit. I guess I just figured he’d be okay after the election. I don’t know.”

“This isn’t your fault, either, Sam.” Donna said firmly. 

“What isn’t Sam’s fault.” 

Josh had barely cracked his eyes open, one hand moving directly to his forehead, and he winced. 

“Ow,” He groaned. He blinked a few times, seemingly taking in the scene around him. “What the hell happened? Did Lou finally make good on her threat to beat my brains out?” 

He tried to sit up, and immediately fell back on the couch, breathing in sharply. Donna reached down and cracked open a Gatorade.

“Best guess, your blood pressure bottomed out. Drink.” She said matter-of-factly, reaching back six years for all the knowledge of Josh’s health issues she had internalized one summer. Josh dazedly accepted the bottle, and took one sip, before making a face and trying to hand it back. 

“My stomach.” He said. 

“Yeah, that’d probably be your blood sugar.” Sam added. “Listen to Donna. Drink it.”  
“Fine, Wonder Twins, jeez.” He accepted the Gatorade again. 

Josh leaned back, and closed his eyes. 

“So, I...fainted?” He asked. 

“Yeah. In front of Otto.” Donna said. 

“Oh, good. Was a skull-bashing part of my little Victorian play?” 

‘No, that would be from your forehead meeting the corner of your desk on the way down.” 

“Ah.” 

The door opened again. 

“Joshua!” 

Dr. Bartlet came in, black bag in her hands. 

Josh shot a confused look at Donna, who raised her eyebrows, daring him to say something. 

“Mrs. B-” He tried to get up again. 

“Stay down, Josh.” She said. Donna got up, moving to Josh’s desk to allow Dr. Bartlet access. “Heard you had a little fall.” 

“Well, yeah, but I’m okay, how did you even know-”  
“It was either Dr. Bartlet, Dr. Griffith, or an ambulance.” Sam said. “And I figured if I called an ambulance you’d kill me, even if it saved your life.” 

“Probably.” Josh admitted. “You could just replace me quietly if I died in my office.” 

“Shirt off.” Dr. Bartlet instructed. Josh flushed a little, but complied immediately. Donna knew he knew better than to try and get around the First Lady on a crusade, and Sam and Donna had been with him nearly every day after Rosslyn. It’s not like this was new territory for them. 

Still, Donna had only seen him recently shirtless in darker conditions. In the unforgiving morning light, it was obvious. 

His collarbones stuck out, his ribs were visible. The scars crossing his chest were raised off his skin, puckered and red. 

Donna looked away. 

It’s not like she had forgotten, really. She had spent three months helping him clean it, and putting on new dressings, and it had looked a lot less healed back then. Just, recently, she had chosen not to think about it. Even the small scar under his ribs, round and unassuming. 

She heard instructions to breathe deep, heard the blood pressure cuff. She turned back as she heard wrappers opening. 

Josh had put his shirt back on, but hadn’t bothered buttoning it up all the way, and was looking blankly at the door as Dr. Bartlet applied butterfly closures to his forehead.

“Well, you’re not going to die, today, Joshua.” She said, as she put the last one on. Josh snapped back, trying to get off the couch. 

“Great! Thanks for coming by, but I have about a trillion things I’m sure I’ve missed-”  
“Not so fast.” Dr. Bartlet pulled him back down by his arm. “You need to see your cardiologist.” 

Josh looked up towards the ceiling, and Donna felt a small flash of guilt. She used to schedule those. 

“Your blood pressure is awful, and your heart doesn’t sound bad, for you, but for someone who didn’t sustain your trauma, it’s pretty bad.” 

“So?” 

“You need to fix this, before you…” 

  
She stopped, and looked down, and Donna immediately understood what she was about to say. Leo was still fresh, still raw for all of them, but Dr. Bartlet had known him for decades. 

“Oh.” Josh said, and he sounded hollow. Sam squeezed her shoulder. 

“We’ll make sure he does, Dr. Bartlet.” He said, getting up. 

“Good. In the meantime, you need to go home for the day, you need to eat a full meal, finish your Gatorade, and sleep.” 

“Ma’am, all due respect, but I really cannot do that-” 

Dr. Bartlet got up.

“Is the President-Elect in?” She asked.

“In his office.” Donna said. 

She got up and left, and Josh stared at the door slamming shut. . 

“She’s about to go over my head, huh?” 

“She definitely is.” Sam agreed. 

Donna sat still for a moment, watching Josh watch the door. 

Fuck it. 

She sat down next to him on the couch, and took his hand. He looked a little startled, and then leaned into it, falling back into the couch and grasping her hand tightly. 

“The Christmas after Rosslyn..”  
“Donna-” 

“Josh, stop, I’m sick of pretending everything that happened before the primaries doesn’t exist. Let me talk.”  
“Okay.” 

“The Christmas after Rosslyn, I was the one who told Leo what was happening with you.” 

“You were?” He looked at her blankly. 

“Yes.” Sam interjected. “The rest of us knew something weird was going on, but Donna was the one who put it together. Did the research, realized.” 

“Oh.” Josh said. 

“I saw what was happening with you, this time round, too. I just-” Donna closed her eyes, tight. 

“Donna,” Josh said softly. “I’m stupid, but I’m not a complete idiot. I should have said something. Besides, if you want to talk about not saying anything, I should have said something after Germany-” 

Well, that hit where she hurt. But now she was arguing, sort of, and couldn’t cede her point, so she said: “And I should have said something to you about it. I also should have picked up on this, a while ago.” 

“No, I’m not your responsibility.”  
“You are-” 

“That’s not your job anymore,” 

“It was NEVER my job!” Donna interrupted, standing up and pushing her hands into her eyes. She couldn’t take this anymore. “Josh, it was never my job. I did it because I lo- I cared about you. I still do. It is my responsibility. You always will be.” 

Josh was staring at her with a weird half-smile that she hadn’t seen in years, something a little mischievous, that looked decidedly out of place on his pale, gaunt, and a little-banged up face. 

“You were about to say that you loved me,” He said, now full-on grinning. Donna looked at Sam for help, but he only shrugged. 

“I was not.” She argued back, if only for argument’s sake. 

“You were!” He insisted. “You definitely were.” 

“I’m sorry to interrupt-” The door opened, and there was the President-Elect, looking somewhat bemused at the scene in front of him. “Is that...blood on your shirt, Josh?” 

  
Josh looked down. There was, in fact, a blood stain on his collar. 

“Yes,” He said bluntly. “Small mishap.”  
“So I’ve heard.” The President-Elect seemed to be raking his eyes up and down Josh. “I just had an interesting conversation with the First Lady. It seems I’m to order you to take a week off.” 

“A WEEK?” Josh’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Donna made eye contact with the First Lady, who gave a little smirk. 

“Sir, I can’t leave now, it was only supposed to be a day-”  
“Well, let’s start with a day and see where we are.” He said, crossing his arms. “Go. now. We’ll talk tomorrow morning. Not before that.” The President-Elect gave him a stern look, and then left, closing the door behind him. 

Josh huffed. Dr. Bartlet came in, scribbling on a prescription pad. 

“I assume you haven’t refilled your cardiac meds?” She said. 

“No.” Josh admitted. Donna heard Sam mutter, “Oh, for _God’s sake-”._ Donna couldn’t agree with that assessment more. 

“You’re going to the pharmacy down the street. And getting all of these filled out.” She handed him a small stack of prescriptions. 

“This one’s for Ambien,” Josh said as he rifled through them. 

“Yes,” Mrs. Bartlet said. “I assume you’re somewhat like my husband, and if I send you home in the state you’re in, you’re just going to work remotely. So, I’m drugging you.” 

“Fair.” Josh said. 

“So, eat a full meal, drugs, sleep. We’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow, but I think you may want to consider taking the week off.” She said. “Unless you want to end up in the hospital ten weeks before inauguration.” 

“No, no,” He agreed hastily. 

“Good. Call me tomorrow, Josh, or I’ll kick your ass.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Mrs Bartlet nodded at them, and left. Josh stood awkwardly by the door, holding his prescriptions, looking between Sam and Donna. 

“Go,” Donna said. “I’ll meet you later. Sleep.” 

“Okay,” Josh said, and started trying to gather up his stuff. He reached for his Blackberry, but Sam pocketed it 

“Nice try. Go.” 

“Jesus, you’re just ganging up on me, now-” 

“ _Go,_ Joshua!” 

“Okay! Going!” 

He stopped by the door, and turned to look back at Donna. 

“For the record,” He said. “You’re my responsibility too.” 

The door shut, and Donna turned to look at Sam, sighing heavily. 

“Why does it take him hitting his head on his desk and the First Lady yelling at him to see a small amount of sense?” She asked. Sam shrugged and hopped off Josh’s desk. 

“He’s got a real hard skull. Maybe it just needed a little calibration.” 

* * *

When Donna let herself into Josh’s apartment, later that night, it was dark. 

Huh. 

He wasn’t at the computer, on the couch, or screaming at the TV. She pushed open the door to his bedroom. 

He hadn’t bothered changing, had just stripped, shoes kicked off, shirt and pants over a chair. The covers were half-on and his head was hidden under a pillow. 

She huffed a laugh, and sat on the edge of the bed next to him, running her hand between his shoulder blades. 

Something about the situation in his office had reminded her, in a terribly inconvenient way, that the Josh she fell in love with, the goofy kid-in-a-man’s-body, was still in there, under the self-destructive habits, stoney face, and inability to ask for help. 

  
It wasn’t that she didn’t think the deadline wasn’t a good idea. It probably was. But maybe, she had just been deluding herself that she could put up a wall and pretend that would stop her from feeling the immense store of love that had built up over the years. 

  
It didn’t. 

She sighed, and, and rested her hand on his skin, warm and freckled. Josh made a muffled noise under the pillow and lifted his head out from underneath. 

“Wha’ time is it?” He asked raspily, squinting at her. 

Donna decided, fuck the wall, and reached out, running her thumb over his cheekbone, and cupping his cheek. 

“Late. I just got in.” She said. He yawned, shifting so his head was against her leg. 

“I just vaguely remembered yelling a lot before I passed out today. I think I owe Otto an apology.” He mumbled. 

“You do. Did you eat?” 

“Yeah.” Josh said, turning into her hand, and moving so he was entirely flush against her side. “I ordered you a sandwich, it’s in the fridge.” 

“That was sweet, thank you.” 

Josh frowned. 

“I told you, you’re my responsibility too,” He said. He grabbed her hand, and pressed her palm to his mouth. “I meant it.” 

Donna didn’t say anything. Just allowed him to keep holding her hand, tight against his own. 

“I know I’m not so great, at this stuff,” He said, propping himself up on one elbow. “But today was stupid.”  
“It was,” She agreed. “Don’t do that again.”

“I’ll try,” He said. “But I was wrong to say you only cared about me because it was your job.” 

“Yes, you were.” Donna said. 

“We’ve been acting weird for like, two years now, and I’m sick of it.”

“Yeah?” 

“Donna, look. I- I know what I want from you.” He said. “I’m scared, I’ve been scared since I figured it out. You’re so- you, and I’m such a mess and, you know.”

“And when did you figure it out? In between driving home and popping an Ambien?” She teased. 

“No.” Josh said seriously. “I figured it out at the Second Inaugural.” 

  
Donna stilled. Remembered being so upset over Jack’s quote, getting ready, and not going. Sitting in her living room in a ball gown. Snowballs on her window. Josh in the street, in a tux, staring at her, wide-eyed and breathless. They’d danced at every ball they made it to. And in between, she’d sat on Josh’s lap in the cabs, even when they could have made room next to him. 

“You-you figured what out?” Donna cleared her throat, and tried to duck behind the ruins of the wall. If this isn’t what he wanted-

“Donna. I want you. You’re it for me. I don’t know how we manage, but I want you. For a long time. Preferably my whole life, but you know, I guess I could drop dead of a heart attack tomorrow, so maybe that won’t be very long.” 

And there, the last of the ruins crumbled into dust. 

She leaned down, and grasped both sides of his face, and kissed him, quietly, deeply. When she pulled away, she rested her forehead against his. 

“Is that an agreement from you?” He asked, low and breathless.  
“Yes, you dummy.” She said, and closed any distance they had between them. Josh wrapped his arms tight around her, and they sat on the edge of his bed in the dark. 

* * *

  
A while later, after Donna had showered and changed into a pair of his sweatpants and t-shirts, they sat at the kitchen counter. 

“So, hitting your head really did re-calibrate you a little, huh?” She teased between bites of her sandwich. Josh nursed a cup of tea. 

“A little,” He said. “But Sam called me right after I left the office and issued his own little ultimatum.”  
“What’s that?”  
“Well, it was two-fold. He said, and I’m truly quoting here- you know how Sam doesn’t really swear, like he’s kind of a weird goody-two shoes- he said: ‘Get your head directly out of your ass when it comes to Donna, or I’m going to surgically remove it’.” 

“Wow,” Donna grinned. “Graphic.” 

“And then, he told me he would only stay on as DCS if I took an actual vacation.” 

Donna laughed and took another bite of the sandwich, until she looked up and found Josh with a dead-serious expression. 

“Oh, you’re not joking?” She said, slowly putting the sandwich down. 

“No.” Josh said. “I had Ronna book me some stuff.” 

“Oh,” Donna said in a carefully controlled tone. “Where- where are you going?” 

“Hawaii.” Josh said “But not me. Us.” 

“Us?” Donna said, confused. And then it clicked. “Oh my God-” 

“The time off shouldn’t be a problem.” Josh said hastily, “But would you- do you want to come with me?” 

“To Hawaii?” 

“Yes.” 

“When?” 

“Tomorrow morning. 11 AM flight to Maui.” 

Donna had brief fantasies about lounging on a beach, endless margaritas, and the ability to sleep longer than four hours a night. 

“I don’t have any of my stuff-” 

“We’ll just swing by your apartment,” Josh waved it off. “Do you _want_ to?” 

“Do I- _Of course_ I want to!” Donna flew off her seat and hugged him, tight. 

“Good.” Josh pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I meant it, Donna. You’re it for me. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.” 

  
They still had stuff to work out, for sure. Two years of weird meetings, arguments, things left unsaid, things said that better left unsaid. There were probably a million conversations that needed to be had about Gaza, about how Donna probably still needed therapy, and honestly- how Josh probably still needed it too. But this, this was a massive step forward. And four weeks ahead of schedule. Even if it was, by Josh’s math, four years late.  
  
Donna would still take it.


End file.
